


Rescued by a Qunari

by nsfwordwitch (vulpineRaconteur)



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Frottage, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 04:03:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5275826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulpineRaconteur/pseuds/nsfwordwitch





	Rescued by a Qunari

As far as mistakes go, this one could have turned out much worse.  Victoria had been on her way to the villa of a friend in the Heartlands of Orlais when two highwaymen stopped the carriage.  Bad turned into very bad when the driver of the carriage, who she had hired that morning, turned out to be one of them.  She managed to get out of the carriage in her panic, but doesn’t get far before she slipped down a slope and landed badly on her ankle.  But instead of the bandits chasing her down the hill as well, she heard them shouting, the sounds of a fight, and then the carriage being driven away in a hurry.

Then, cautiously making his way down the slope, Maker preserve her, a _Qunari_ , tall and broad, _shirtless,_ horns up and out behind his head as long as her arm.  He has a look of distressed concern on his face as he holds out a hand and says “Are you alright, miss?”  When she doesn’t respond, he says “I promise I'm not going to hurt you.”  Hesitantly, Victoria takes his hand.

He pulls her standing, but immediately she gives a gasp of pain and topples forward into him.  “My ankle,” she says.  “I must have twisted it in the fall.”

“Um,” he says, and she realizes she’s pressed against his chest, her hands on his, frankly, spectacular pectorals.  She says “Oh!” and tries to back away, but her ankle gives out.  He catches her.  Victoria feels a blush rise in her cheeks and sees his coppery face turn reddish, too.

“You uh,” he starts.  “I don't think you'll be able to walk on that, miss.  Were you going far?  I can carry you.  If that's uh, if that's alright?”

It’s only a few more miles to the villa she’s visiting.  He could easily get her there by nightfall.  She imagines several hours cradled in his arms, against his bare chest.  She swallows and says “Yes, that would be very kind of you.”

Victoria isn’t very tall, but she is rather plump, and has never felt comfortable being carried, not since she was a girl.  But the towering Qunari lifts her easily and holds her in both arms.  “Here,” he says, “put your arms around my neck.”  She does, her hands barely touching on the other side.  She points him in the direction she was going and they set off.

It’s a beautiful day, the sun shining dappled through the trees.  The early summer smell of life and expectation fills Victoria’s lungs, and she watches the Qunari carefully.  He’s young, she thinks, with few scars or lines on his face.  His brown eyes are alert, and avoiding her gaze.  She draws his attention.

“I am entirely at your mercy, you know,” she says, watching him carefully.

“Don’t worry, miss,” he says, eyes ahead.  “I won’t let any harm come to you.”

She sighs.  “That’s comforting.”  After a moment’s silence, she asks “What shall I call you?”

“Anaan,” he says.  “And you?”

“Lady Victoria Quincy.  It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.  I ought to curtsey after an introduction but, well.  It is very nice to meet you, Anaan.  And not just because you saved me from those ruffians.  How is it you came to my rescue?”

“I’m with a vashoth mercenary group.  That is, qunari who aren’t, you know Qunari.  I was born outside the Qun.  My parents—anyway.”  Color rises in his cheeks again, and she finds it quite charming.  “I got held up in Verchiel, and they went on to Lake Celestine without me.  I’m on my way to meet them.”

“You’re travelling alone?  Is that safe?”

“No offence, my lady, but couldn’t I be asking you the same thing?”

She laughs, exposing her throat, and she catches a look in his eye seconds before it disappears.  A wanting look.

“I heard you screaming,” he says, “so I came running.  Managed to knock one of ‘em down, then the other two got him onto the carriage and drove it off.  I’m sorry I couldn’t do better.”

“Goodness,” Victoria says, “don’t worry about that.  You did better than I would have expected just by involving yourself at all.”

“But surely you had some jewelry or something else important on that carriage?”

Victoria shrugs.  “Not really.  I’m only visiting a friend for a few days.  There won’t be much call for jewels.  And anyway, things can be replaced.”

He smiles slow.  “You aren’t Orlesian, are you?”

She laughs again.  “Maker, no.  I’m a Ferelden expatriate, actually.  My family has some holdings in the Bannorn.  Not exactly royalty, but enough to send their third child to university in Orlais.  I came here several years ago and never looked back, frankly.  Orlais is much more fun for an unmarried girl like me.  Much more…open-minded.”  She smiles slyly at him, and she’s sure he blushes again.  She’s quite fond of all the blushing.

After some time, she notices him shifting her about uncomfortably.  “Shall we have a rest?” she suggests, and he agrees, setting her down in a dry patch of grass beside a creek.  He takes water up in his hands and wipes down his skin, cleaning away the sweat and dirt of the road, leaving his arms, his neck, his broad torso softly glittering in the sunshine.  Victoria can feel her heart beating in her throat.

After a few minutes, he picks her back up again and they continue on.  His skin is still slightly damp against her dress.  His body gives off so much heat, it’s  almost uncomfortable.  Almost.

“So,” Victoria says, “I don’t know much about not-Qunari courtship.  Is there…someone special out there for you?  Some lucky lass or lad who gets to keep their feet warm on you at night?”

He clears his throat.  “No, there’ve been, I mean, I’ve been with a few, um, lasses, and uh, you know, one lad, before, but not recently.  No one I’m uh, courting.”

“Hm,” Victoria says.  “Good to know.”  She pauses, turns her eyes on the path ahead.  “I’m not courting anyone at the moment either.  I’ve never felt the need to attach myself to someone emotionally.  Just not my cup of tea, I don’t think.  Now, attaching myself _physically_ ,” she keeps her gaze away from him, but out the corner of her eye she’s certain he’s looking at her now.  “ _Physical_ attachments I try to get into as often as possible.  Not proper for a young lady of my station, perhaps, but where’s the fun in being proper?”

She looks back at him and sees him nod, sees his throat bob as he swallows.  “So you agree?  You know what I mean,” she says, refusing to look away from him now, “about having fun?”

“Who uh, who doesn’t like having fun?” he says.  His grip on her legs and the side of her torso tightens.

She looks at him, expectant, waiting.  Nothing.

“Maker's mercy, you Qunari don't know how to take a hint, do you?” she finally says, her words half an exasperated sigh.

“I’m sorry?”

She traces a fingertip down from his neck, draws a small circle above one of his nipples, and he shivers.  “Why don’t you take us over to that little hollow there, and ravish me like I know you want to?”

“Uh,” he says, and the blush had reached his neck now, “I mean, you want to?”  He looks at her like a child on Wintersend, all surprise and joy and a little bit like he’s getting away with something.

“Oh, Anaan,” she says, pulling her face to his ear and whispering, “you are so sweet.  Now show me some fun.”

He makes a small “hup” noise, hoists her closer to his chest, and jogs over to the secluded spot she had indicated, sending her into gleeful giggles.  He sets her down gently, thrumming with restrained energy, and she holds onto his neck to pull his face to hers so she could kiss him deeply.  He makes a surprised, pleased sound and kisses her back, his giant hands wrapping softly around her face and to her neck.

She puts her arms around his neck and lifts herself until their chests touch.  He shifts his hands down her sides, resting at her waist.  Victoria pulls their faces apart gently.

“You’ve been with a lad, you said?”

“Uh, yes?”

“And he had…the whole package, between his legs?”

He pauses.  “Yes?”

“Oh good!” Victoria says.  “So do I; just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing.”

He bites his lip, smiling, and her heart melts.  “I wouldn’t worry about that, my lady.”

“Oh Andraste’s dirty knickers, none of that ‘my lady’ stuff while we’re fucking, please.”  She bucks her hips into him, friction from her crotch onto his stomach.  “Speaking of which?”

He laughs, and starts to slide his head down her body.  “You’re sure not afraid to ask for what you want, are you?”

“How else—” she starts, but her breath hitches when his hands slip under her skirt—“am I supposed to get it?”  She shivers and lets out a long sigh as his hands trace up the inside of her thighs, and briefly his face disappears in her skirts.  Damned Orlesians and their layers.  She pulls them all up to her chest, the better to watch him.  He catches her hungry gaze and the blush returns.

Victoria’s cock is hard, pressed to her stomach by her too-tight bloomers.  When Anaan pulls them down it springs up, tip already wet.  He glances from it to Victoria, and she can feel his pulse pounding in the wrists against her legs.  He wraps one hand around the base, fingers presses to her stomach, and wraps his lips around the head of her cock.

She gasps, and cries out in pleasure when he lowers his head, and he, the giant, takes all of her deep into his mouth.  “Oh,” she breathes, “oh that’s so—oh—”  She reaches instinctively for his horns, but takes her hands back quickly.  “Is it alright—”

“Yes,” he breathes, and the hungry tone to his voice makes her moan.  She takes both of his horns at the base and bucks into him.  He hums deep in his throat and shifts his hands, grabbing her ass and leaving her free to fuck his mouth, and she does, thrusting, feeling his lips drag up and down her shaft.  He rolls his tongue to cup her and she almost, almost finishes then, but she’s not done yet.

Gently Victoria pulls out of Anaan’s mouth, leaving his lips parted and flushed.  She guides him up by the horns until their faces meet and she kisses him again.  She reaches down, trying to find his groin, but he’s so tall she has no hope of reaching it.  “Sit up,” she tells him, and he complies.  “Sit there, let me see it.”

She can see the shape of it in his trousers before he even undoes them, and when she pulls it out her hand flies to her mouth.  “Never in my life…” she breathes, then looks up at his face.  Open, nervous.  What does he have to be nervous about?  “Never in my life have I met a man like you, Anaan.”

He smiles broadly.  “Is that a compliment?”

“ _Is it a compliment!_   You’re funny, too.  Come forward, let me…”  He shifts until he’s kneeling just above her hips, and she takes his cock and presses it down onto hers.  It’s so big she can’t even see hers.  She thrusts slightly, absent-mindedly, and gasps.  No more calculated moves; she rolls her hips with wanton desire, both tips dripping onto her stomach.  Anaan moans and leans forward, hands on the tree roots above them.  His pleasure comes out in short, breathy shouts and she moves, his open, shining face hanging above her.

He bites his lip, seems to be holding back when he spits out “Your dress—”

“Damn the dress,” she gasps, “just let go.”

He does, moan becoming shout and Victoria comes too, sparks clouding her vision of his beautiful face.

For a moment, they are still and panting.  Then Anaan leans back and takes a clean handkerchief from his bag, wets it with water from his water skin, and wipes them both down.  Victoria sits up and tidies her hair.  She squints up at the sky.  “Well we won’t make it by nightfall _now._ ”

By the time they reach the villa, it’s well after dark.  They stand outside the pool of light from the gate house silently.  Victoria’s ankle is well enough now, and she stands on her own two feet.  She looks up at her rescuer.

“You must stay the night,” she says.  “You saved me, after all.”

“And what would your friend think of a qunari spending the night in one of her fine guest beds?” he asks, smiling slightly.

Victoria pouts.  “No, perhaps you’re right.”  Still, she doesn’t move any closer to the villa.

Anaan lifts one hand, then seems to think better of whatever he was going to do with it.

“You know,” Victoria says, eyes on the night sky, “Orlesian winters never agree with me.  I think I’ll go to Rialto when the summer ends.  There’s a charming café on the water called The Fern and Feather.  I expect I’ll spend every morning there after Satinalia.”  She turns her face to him and smiles her sly smile.  “Just in case Antiva is interesting to you.”

A smile blooms on Anaan’s broad face.  “I think it just might be.”


End file.
